


New Fallen Snow

by Silential



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 15:43:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silential/pseuds/Silential
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumbelle War. Rum’s leg has been going numb, and Belle is worried. (He couldn’t understand it. One minute ago, it was fine. And now, her blood was on his hands - and it was his fault.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Fallen Snow

Neverland had taken his grandson, and fought tooth, nail, and vine to keep him. Though Henry had been wrest away from that infernal place and its dark God, it had exacted a high price in the process. His stilted explanations had allowed Belle to know the story. Or at least she knew most of it, Rumpelstiltskin thought to himself as he vigorously massaged feeling back into his leg, just out of sight under the tablecloth.

At first the loss in sensation was sporadic. If he spent the day lying down, or wiled away the morning in bed, perhaps it might give him some trouble when he first sought to put weight on it. Once every few weeks during the summer he might have difficulty, a cold numbness creeping up his leg, but nothing he couldn’t handle, even without magic.

As the summer had bloomed and faded, so too had his health, though he struggled to hide the worst of it from his wife. His absence had troubled her enough, and Rumpelstiltskin knew he’d spend the rest of his days endeavoring to make up for the year he’d left her alone, with no knowledge if he lived or died. Enough anxiety and dread had been sown in those twelve months to bear poison fruit for decades to come, and it was only by grace of her forgiving nature that the field was razed at all before such could occur. His hands would plant only happiness between them – and this inconvenience, this numbness, did not factor into the picture.

The episodes were coming more frequently now though, nearly every day. When he slept, when he settled down into a chair, even for the hour or two they’d been at one of the newer restaurants in town. He currently couldn’t feel a thing below the knee, and while the man that had been Mr. Gold cautioned him to see about possible nerve damage with Whale, the last dregs of Rumpelstiltskin the imp whispered that no science could heal this magic. 

The chill of late December had not helped matters, sinking like fish hooks into his bones. It had been his idea to celebrate New Year’s Eve with dinner on the town – every town should see its Mayor out and about after all, not turning into a dusty shut-in like her husband – and as he futilely attempted to awaken the lower half of his leg, the first few fingers of regret began to set in.

 “– the outer bike trails, and I think we can make it more kid friendly if we – are you alright, Rum? What are you doing?” Belle was speaking, lovely with the hint of a blush the wine had brought to her cheeks, but to his shame he’d missed half of what she’d said.

Straightening in his chair, he settled his hands in front of his finished plate with determined calm. “Nothing important, love. Foot just fell asleep.”

Her brows furrowed, and the blue of her eyes seemed to draw him in as she scrutinized his visage. She had always been able to parse the truth from its bastard brethren in his words. “That’s been happening quite a lot recently.”

“I should get out more.” He shrugged, praying she would leave the topic alone. Months of downplaying it wouldn’t be lost because of one night; he wouldn’t become an invalid and a bother. 

It was bad enough he was a cripple.

Her lips curved downwards in a frown, but she didn’t press him further. The atmosphere seemed to change afterward, and if originally they’d intended to stay for dessert and coffee, Belle had quickly asked for the check and signed it with her own card before he’d had a chance to say otherwise. 

Pushing back from the table, she gathered up her things. Her heels were quite tall, but it wasn’t their height that had her tottering slightly. “I think it would be best if we went home, sweetheart,” she explained, slipping into the embrace of her woolen coat before he could even rise from his chair to help her. 

“I told you, Belle, I’m fine,” he protested, but noted with a growing sense of alarm that feeling had not yet returned. The dull ache of his ankle pinged his nerves, but the entire bottom of his foot was still numb. 

Her disapproving glance spoke volumes, though her words were clipped. “The way you’ve been wincing in pain says otherwise.”

Pushing back from the table, Rum fought his way to his feet. Leaning heavily on his cane, he was able to limp weakly to the door, unable to technically feel the bottom of his foot collide with the ground but praying it would hold his weight anyway. When he didn’t crumple after ten steps, he considered it a victory and glanced back over his shoulder. 

She hadn’t moved from her place beside the table, the grimace he’d seen before etched even further into the fine lines of her face. After a few moments she reluctantly followed, her movements exaggeratedly careful as if each one required thought. 

When they’d passed through the front door, a hand waving distractedly towards the hostess as she bid them goodnight, Belle turned to him and asked, “Can you even drive?” 

It was on his tongue to say _yes_ , but the word simply wouldn’t come out. He couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t lose sensation entirely again the moment he sat down. 

“That’s what I thought,” she said, and rather than sounding smug, the words were infinitely sad. 

The snow lining the cement crunched under their feet, more fluttering softly but thickly from the sky to settle on shoulders and cheeks. Her lashes were dusted with it already, evoking the snow queen from the old stories he’d heard as a child in a thatched hut so long ago. 

At the black Cadillac, she unlocked his door for him and swung it wide, holding his hand and cane as he maneuvered himself inside the passenger side. His cheeks burned at having her see him like this when he’d promised her joy and an end to their problems, but she didn’t say a word, merely flashed a reassuring smile and headed for the driver seat. He closed his door just as she opened hers, falling inside heavily and reaching for her heels. 

“Hold these, please – no way I can drive in them,” Belle explained with a half-laugh, and passed the sky-high boots his way. Their red sole complemented the black matte fabric. 

With feeling already draining from his foot, creeping upwards like gangrene, Rum cursed the Pan and his command over the void. He had apparently meant his threat of a slow, living death, and the rush of frigid air from the vents only added to the foreboding in his gut. 

Closing the flaps and oblivious to his thoughts, she murmured, “Sorry, forgot they had to heat up,” before reaching for the gearshift. Belle had become quite adept at driving, and she pulled out with ease, guiding the car back and then forward as she changed gears. The tires struggled over the snow. 

It would take about ten minutes to return to the cabin where they’d decided to spend New Year’s, especially with the inches already on the ground and the thickening fall from above. She was going a bit faster than he thought necessary, but with the way she gripped the wheel so hard her knuckles were turning white, he didn’t have the heart to say. 

After they’d passed his shop on Main Street and headed towards the woods, Belle asked, her voice flat, “Why haven’t you told me?” 

“Told you what, sweetheart?” The trees loomed dark and pressing on either side of the car, growing closer as they ventured further into the forest. The snow cast back the light from the headlights into their eyes, and each snowflake existed for a moment in a frozen chiaroscuro against the black trees. 

Although she hadn’t turned to look at him before, Belle did now. Tears brimmed in her eyes, threatening to spill over, and choked her words. “About your leg. It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

Opening his mouth to lie, a natural reflex, he found he couldn’t. “Yes.”

“Goddamnit,” she swore, and the car jerked enough that he grabbed onto the door. “You should never have gone to Neverland without me.”

“I can’t change that now –”

“No you can’t, can you?” Belle slapped the steering wheel, and brusquely pushed the wetness from her eyes. “You said you would never lie to me again. You _promised_.”

His heart breaking, he opened his mouth and regretted his words the moment they left. “Sweetheart, I never _lied_ , I just…”

She barked out a laugh. “You just didn’t tell me. All I want to do is help you, Rumpelstiltskin, and I thought you were going to include me in things this time around.”

Feeling tears begin to prick his own eyes, he gripped the handle of his cane. His voice trembled no matter how he tried to stop it. “I’m so sorry, Belle. I just didn’t want to frighten you.”

“I’m already frightened, Rum, I’ve _been_ frightened. Frightened you wouldn’t come back,” and here her voice broke, and tears fell freely despite her attention on the road, “frightened that if you did it would be in a box. And I’ve noticed the way you’ve been walking, how much it bothers you. You don’t think I’m already frightened it’s going to get to a point we can’t control?”

He nodded, emotion stoppering his throat. It was all he could do it force out a strangled, “Belle, honey…” 

Her head turned to appraise him, one crystalline moment of perfect pain and the tracks of tears on her cheeks; they both saw the movement at the same time, and just a fraction too late. Cursing, she swerved to avoid hitting the deer standing, gaze calm and stupidly placid, in the middle of the road. 

When he came to, it was the next day, left to huddle on a hard hospital bed. The tubes and wires keeping him alive wreathed him like the vines that had held him down in that accursed world, the one that had stolen so much precious time from his love. 

The bed next to his was empty. Sheets white and untouched like new fallen snow. 


End file.
